Catcher in the Rye: Lost Chapter
by Stream'sxCupxOfxTea
Summary: An assignment I had to do last year for my Language Arts class. Shamelessly includes an OC, but no romantic-ness. Enjoy.


It's been a couple for years now since I ran away from from Pencey. Not much has changed I guess. Sorta all depends on which way you look at it. I finally "did something with my life" to quote my mother. Went away to college and all that stuff. It really was pretty phony; if you really want to know, college is chalk full of phonies. I did meet some pretty decent guys though, and I had this one teacher, Mrs. Lewis. She was pretty swell. And she made college okay. It wasn't the greatest time I've ever had, but it was sure a hell of a lot better than some of the other schools my parents shipped me off to. And Mrs. Lewis sure was a better teacher than old whathisname. The only teacher I really liked at Pencey. Christ, I can't even remember his name. Only reason I really remember him is cause he's the kinda the whole reason I started my whole trip.

I got a degree in whatyoumacallit, working with kids and all. I get a bang out of it, some of those kids are pretty neat. Mostly I work with younger kids. Kids like Allie's age. Sometimes though, the boss gives me someone older, like the age I was when I had that whole break down and all.

Oh the boss. He's a prince, a real prince. I don't really like him all that much. It's not that he's phony or nothing, but it's just that I don't think he likes kids that well. Which really kills me. I mean, why would you work with kids if you don't even like 'em in the first place? He's alright though. I mean, I can't really talk back to him or anything, since he's the one who controls my paycheck. I just try to stay out of his way, and he does the same, so it seems to work out pretty fine.

Anyways, what I wanna tell you about is something that happened to me, right around Christmas. I don't like Christmas all that much in the first place, cause it seems like such a phony holiday. And you know, my parents wanna have me at their house for Christmas and all. But I don't really like going over there too much. First off, old Phoebe finally got a boyfriend, and whenever I see him, he kinda makes me wanna punch something. Not that he's a bad kid or anything. Really, if I met him on the streets, and talked with him for a bit, I'd think he was a really swell kid. But I don't know, I guess I just don't really like him cause he's going out with Phoebe.

If you really want to know, Christmas always makes me feel kinda crummy. And when I'm in a crummy mood, I tend to make other people sorta bad and all. So I try to say away from big Christmas parties. So cause I didn't really have any plans, I decided to stay at work. Which was actually really depressing.

But first, maybe I should explain where I work. I work in New York; "working with troubled kids, and helping them find their path". At least, that's what our motto. What I really do is mostly just talk to kids, and see how they're feeling about life and all. It's a pretty swell job, I think I said that before. I like working with kids. So I guess it kinda fulfills my dream of being "the catcher in the rye."

Anyways, back to what I was saying; I decided to just stay at work, and work through Christmas. And what's really depressing is I wasn't the only one. Sure, mostly everyone left work, and headed off to their bloody parties and holiday celebrations and all, but there were a couple people who stayed behind. Kinda depressing when you think about it.

So there I was, just sitting in my office, smoking. Now I know what you're gonna say; now that I have a job and a life, should I try and quit smoking or something like? Well, the truth is it's really hard to quit. I tried once, gave of smoking for a week. And I felt terrible, really crummy and all. So I quit trying to quit, if that makes any sense.

Anyways, I just sitting there, with my legs propped up on my desk and all, and I was just smoking a cigarette. You're not really supposed to smoke in the building, but nobody really pays attention to that rule. Whenever anybodies on break, they just sit in their office and smoke like a bastard. Even the women. So I was just sitting there, not really thinking about much when Mrs. Martine stuck her head in. She's really alright, old Mrs. Martine. She's probably as old as hell, so I don't know why she's doesn't just retire or something like that. But she always says she loves working with kids, and how she'll keep working this job until the day she dies. That really kills me. But I guess she's an improvement over the boss. At least she cares about the kids who come in here.

So anyways, she said to me. "Mr. Caulfield?" She asked me all nice and polite. "Are you busy?"

Now this really killed me. I mean, did I look busy? What also kills me is how everyone here calls me "Mr. Caulfield." I just get a kick outa that. They all do that, even though I tell them to call me Holden. But I shook my head, and answered her. "No Mrs. Martine. Do you need something?"

Mrs. Martine opened the door a bit more. She looked real nervous and stuff, which made me really worried. I mean, Mrs. Martine's seen it all. There isn't much that surprises her, or freaks her out or nothing. So you can understand why I got a little nervous. "Well Mr. Caulfield, I hate to bother you when it's Christmas, and I know you probably have places to go, but there isn't anybody else who would take this case."

I stubbed out my cigarette in the little ashtray I have on my desk. "Wadda mean no one else would take this case?" I asked her; wishing she's just spit out what she was trying to say for Chrissake.

Mrs. Martine finally opened the door, and stepped inside my office. She was real sweet about it too; even though my office was really dirty and crummy and smoky, she pretended not to notice how poorly I was keeping my office clean. She cleared her throat a couple of times. "Well Mr. Caulfield, our officers brought a young girl in a few days ago. Apparently she has been living on the streets, and working as a prostitute; not living a very nice life. Almost everyone here has tried to talk to her, but she won't respond. She completely ignores all of us! A few years ago, we might have just admitted this was a lost case, and handed her over to the police." Mrs. Martine blushed, and I guess she didn't really like the way things used to be. "But now with this new 'no child left behind' policy, I'm afraid we can't do that." Mrs. Martine cleared her throat again, which was starting to get a little annoying, and I thought about offering her a cough-drop and all. "And because of...your unusual teenage years, I thought you might give talking to her a try." Mrs. Martine's voice got a little higher, and you could tell she was getting sorta desperate. "We're running out of idea's Mr. Caulfield."

I sighed, and took my feet off the desk. Spending my Christmas talking to some street girl sounded really crummy, and pretty depressing if you really want to know. But then again, I guess I'd made the choice to stay at work, and Mrs. Martine did look really desperate and worried and all, so I thought I might as well give it a try. "Alright Mrs. Martine, I'll give it a try." I said. "But I'm warning ya, I'm not promising any miracles."

Mrs. Martine was so relieved she looked like she was about to cry. "Oh thank you Mr. Caulfield! I'll make it up to you, don't you worry!" She kept saying, which really killed me. I mean, this was my job. I'm supposed to do it; no rewards granted. Except for the pay check of course.

Anyways, Mrs. Martine led me down one of the really gray, boring halls to the waiting rooms; chatting the whole time. I wasn't really paying attention to what she was saying. You could kinda tell she was just talking to fill the space. I mean, it was quieter than a graveyard at midnight in the office for chrissake. It was pretty late at night too, and I was feeling pretty tired. I was thinking that maybe I get old Mrs. Martine to get me some coffee. I yawned behind her back, but I don't think she really noticed.

When we finally got to the waiting room, you could tell Mrs. Martine was getting real nervous and all. She kept dropping her keys, and was fluttering around, saying silly things like "Now I'm sure you'll get along just fine with this girl. Justine. Her name is Justine. Just...talk to her; try to get her to open up." By this point, I was really itching to have a smoke or something. But if I did, I'd probably feel guilty and want to offer one to this Justine girl; which I'm sure would make Mrs. Martine pretty unhappy. I'm supposed to be helping this girl, not get her fixed on smoking. Not that I'm not sure she's already hyped up on drugs and all. Plus, Mrs. Martine is like the only one who follows the "No Smoking" rule. And I didn't wanna upset Mrs. Martine. I think I said this before, but she really is just a sweet old woman, one of the few people I like here

Anyways, when we stopped just outside the waiting room, Mrs. Martine sorta patted me on the shoulder, which I'm sure was quite a stretch for her; since I'm about six feet tall, and old Mrs. Martine probably less than five. But she just gave me this pat on the shoulder, and looked up at me with a really weird expression; half sympathetic and half defeated, like she somehow knew I was going to fail before I even started talking to this girl. "Now Mr. Caulfield, I understand if you can't do anything for this girl. All I'm asking here is for you to try your best."

I kinda nodded my head, and shrugged at the same time, to get her hand off my shoulder. I don't know why, but that made me feel really weird. "Sure thing Mrs. Martine. Whatever you say." Then I opened the door, and walked inside, leaving Mrs. Martine hovering nervously right outside the door.

It was dark as hell in that room, it really was. I could barely seen my own hand in front of my face. Anyway, it took me a few minutes for my eyes adjust, and it that time, I just sorta stumbled. Not the best way to make an impression on this girl. Anyways, after a few minutes, my eyes adjusted, and I saw this girl. She was just kinda sitting in front of a desk, with her feet propped up on the table, like mine had been a few minutes ago. I wasn't really sure what to say, so I just stood there like a stupid bastard, and cleared my throat.

The second, and I mean the second I did that, she whipped around to face me. Let me just tell you, she wasn't that pretty. I mean, she had a nice face and all, but she looked mean. Really mean. "You the new shrink that's gonna come in and try and talk to me?"

I kinda just stared at her; I guess I lied, she was pretty sexy, but in a kinda phony way. Her hair was really black until her roots, then it was light brown, so I'm guessing she must have dyed it. She was wearing a lot of make-up, had big, green eyes, and had on this cute little red dress that looked like something Phoebe would have worn a couple years ago. But what really shocked me the most was her shoes. I mean, she was wearing this big, ugly black army boots, which I thought was a real shame, cause other than that she was really pretty.

She gave me a weird look, and I realized I'd just been starting at her for the past few minutes. I shook my head and held out a hand. "I'm Holden. Holden Caulfield." She just raised an eyebrow at me. I gave her a big, phony smile. "You must be Justine."

"Yeah so?" She growled as she sat back down, and I pulled out a chair, and placed it on the other side of the desk, so Justine and I were sitting across from each other. She didn't look at me, just stared up at the ceiling, so I kinda leaned forward.

"Look, I know you don't want to talk to me, to be honest, I don't really want to talk to you either. But it's my job, so why don't you just get comfortable, and the sooner you talk, the sooner we can both go."

Justine took a big breath. "How about you leave me alone, ya big bastard." She snapped, and I grit my teeth. "What the hell do you want me to tell you?"

I reached into my pocket, and pulled out a lighter and cigarette, and lit one. Justine watched me through narrowed eyes, and now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow. "You want one?" I asked, all casual like, and she sniffed.

"No."

"You sure."

"I said no!" She grumbled as she took the cigarette I was offering, and I smiled and sat back in my chair.

"So, you wanna talk now?" I asked her, trying to be real friendly and all.

Justine shook her head as she took a drag. "What's there to tell?" She rolled her eyes, and her voice took on a mimicy tone. "My mommy and daddy never really got along too well. Mommy was working in a bar, trying to save up some money, but daddy was always drinking away that money. Mommy and daddy were always fighting, so I spent as much time out of the house as possible. I got shipped off to a couple cheap, cruddy boarding school. When I was thirteen, mommy ran away. I guess she's had enough. I haven't heard from her since. Anyways, I dropped outa school cause there wasn't enough money to pay the bills with daddy not working. Got a job at a bar, just like mommy, then some pimp asks me to be a slut. Lots of money was involved, so I said yes. Tried to go back to school doing the day, but that didn't really work out. Anyways, one day I'm just sitting in the park, watching the ducks and minding my own business when some guy comes along, and tells me I better come with him, they can help me out." She shrugged. "And so, here I am."

I tried to smile nicely. "Well, is that all? That doesn't seem too bad."

Justine threw back her head back and laughed. "That's true, cause I can deal with my own shit. I was even thinking of getting a real job, maybe going away to college," Her eyes hardened. "Aren't you proud? Got my life goals all planned out. I mean, this wouldn't be too bad, except you dumb bastards keep poking your noses in my business. I mean, I was even gonna stop working as a slut. But then you guys came along. You think you're helping me?" Justine kicked a chair, and stood up. "You don't know anything about me, or how I'm feeling. You can't help me at all!" She pushed her hair out of her eyes, and glowered at me. "I bet you lived a real pampered, nice easy life didn't you?"

I smirked."Why don't you sit down Justine?" She continued to glare at me as she stood. "Okay, fine, suite yourself." I said, sighing and folding my hands as I looked down looked down. Damn, I felt old. Really old. But I guess that's because Justine really reminded me of myself. "Hey, look Justine, I got something to tell you. You told me about your life and all, so I'm gonna tell you about mine. But it's kinda a long story, just so you know..."


End file.
